


For As Long As Now

by Laiska



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Makeover, elven lifespans are tricky things, minor spoilers for The Stolen Century
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 13:19:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10991745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laiska/pseuds/Laiska
Summary: First dates, quiet talks, and a little bit of trickery. An inkling of a normal life, in a life that is anything but normal.





	For As Long As Now

 

He tried to argue again that violet probably was not his colour, but he was overridden by a hand, held up flat, and a sharp look from two piercing eyes.

Instead, he stared down onto the tray that sat between them, scattered with so many hues it seemed like the skin of a peacock who had bathed in a rainbow. There was not much he could make sense of amongst the glittering palettes and the small pots of paint and cakes of powder, and that was _before_ his spectacles had been confiscated right from his nose. The array of brushes beside them was downright arcane.

If not for having witnessed worlds beyond imagining, and viewing the hearts of enigmas that a million philosophers could never dare to pontificate on, Barry might stupidly have wondered how he ended up in this exact situation, but it was just as plausible as anything else—likely, even. His hands fidgeted against the denim on his knees.

The other side of the tray gave a grunt.

"I really am gonna need you to hold still, my man, unless you want me to put an eye out. _Yours_."

"Sorry."

Torchlight flickered in the room. Barry tried his best to concentrate on the shifting shadows on the walls and the forms that they made, and to ignore the tickling touch of bristles, and Taako's slender fingers, against his face. A spiny implement flicked against his eyelashes and made his tear ducts water. His cheeks felt tight, and itchy.

"Taako," he sighed, when there wasn't a cloud of pigment dust around his mouth. "I really do appreciate the help, but… is this all necessary? It's just, I've never real been good at this make-up thing."

The mascara wand lowered.

"Barry. Barry? Look at me, Barry," the elf said, tipping his head.

Barry did so, reluctantly, but as usual, the elf's ethereal eyes were unreadable.

"Now listen, Barry," he continued. "You're a _great guy_. Anyone would be just thrilled to have you, trust me. But you said so yourself, didn't you? How you didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of her?"

The man nodded.

"Now, I don't know if you've seen my sister lately—what am I saying, of _course_ you have—but she is _gorgeous_. Maybe not as much as yours truly, but let's be real. On looks? She is miles out of your league. Sky high. I mean, what were you going to do, show up there in these same old robes, with your same old _face_? You weren't even gonna fix your hair, were you?"

"Well—"

"Look, Barry, I'm just looking out for _you_. Best interests, really, I swear it. If you don't sit down and let ol' Taako work his magic, you're gonna regret it."

Barry's fingers drummed against his legs in an agitated rhythm, but he couldn't disagree. He and Lup had been something skirting the outsides of an item for—oh, what had it been?—three cycles, now? Yet, this was the very first time they were going on what could be considered a _date_. Dinner and flowers, the whole nine yards. He supposed it would be worth looking his best, and admittedly, there was no one he could trust better on Lup's taste than her own twin. If Taako said he needed more blush, he probably did. He crinkled his nose and tried not to sneeze.

"I just," he sighed again, doing his best not to blink as something was painted around the edges of his eyelids, "I dunno, Taako. I can't ever tell if she's serious about me or not. Me and her—all of us—we've been through a _lot_. Every year feels like it passes by in the blink of an eye, but at the same time it's _so long_."

Taako hummed, "Welcome to my life, my man."

"Right… I guess so. But… You know what, I'm just gonna shut up, I sound like an idiot."

"Listen, Barry." He flicked a thin brush along the ridge of Barry's eyebrow. "I've told you this before: You think too much. I know it's hard for your nerd brain to sit still and let things be what they are, but sometimes, you have to try not to question it. Just go with the flow, y'know?"

"I guess, but I—"

"No 'buts'! Alright there, Tiger, I think you're ready, go and get 'em."

The elf stood and placed the brushes down on the tray, floating the whole thing to the side. His hand clapped, soft but heartily, against Barry's shoulder as he gave him an approving once-over. He returned the thick spectacles and gestured for the man to stand.

"Wait," said Barry, rising from the chair, "shouldn't I—"

"No time, my man, get out there."

A surprising amount of force from behind urged him towards the door.

"You don't want to keep her waiting, do you?"

Crap, what was the time? They still had yet to fully sort out the daylight cycle on this world, and Lucretia, who could best be counted on to keep those records, was on the ship, the next continent over. Outside of the furnished cavern, the sandy columns that supported the avenue cast faint shadows from a dim, orange light. Barry looked back at Taako, eyes wide and anxiety rising.

"What are you waiting for? _Go!_ "

With one last shove, he stumbled out of the entryway, kicking up dust with a red cape streaming behind.

  
  


An intense wind swept through the crags that bordered the rising path, sending a buffeting of dirt against Barry's painted face. He reached his sleeve up to wipe it away, but recalled Taako's stern warning against "messing with perfection." His hand fell back to his side. The cliff at his left opened to a steep drop, and a view that gave him pause, as inky evening spread out over the canyon below. On reflection, this rendezvous would have been better arranged during the previous year they had lived, in a land of subterranean cities aglow with deep purple geo-luminescence, and the light of a million handcrafted lanterns in their stained glass shells. It was romantic, in a way that arid dervishes and crackling badlands could not possibly be. But, here they were, and here was tonight. His timing was as impeccable as always.

In previous their wanderings, Lup had identified what passed for a tavern, built into one of the cliffside caves that shielded this settlement's dwellers from the unforgiving climate and long, cloudless days. In conversation, she may have hinted a desire to visit (it was less of a hint, more a violent nudge and a "Let's go there!"). The scientist was at least savvy enough to follow _that_ lead. He had extended the invitation over another evening meal, to which Lup gave a patented crooked grin, and kissed his outstretched hand. Merle, the only other crew member to stay with them at the dwelling, scoffed from the other side of the room about "young love," but Barry was half-certain that the barb was directed at him specifically, as most jokes seemed to be.

Still, she did say yes, in her own way, and that was all that really mattered.

As he rounded the bend of the spiral, Barry finally caught view of the moss lamp that illuminated the front door of the tavern, and a metal plaque above the natural archway labeling it 'The Oasis.' He scurried to the door, pointlessly wiping his shoes on the threshold, and stepped through.

Inside, the air was blissfully still, and a dim chatter and soft strains of music circulated overhead. The lights were dull, atmospheric. He scanned the crowd.

Lup sat at a table against the wall, her innate glimmer unmistakable in any environment, illuminating in his vision the elegant points of her ears, the soft drape of her hair, and eyes like two gems that studied a painting across the room, not seeing him. Finally, she turned his way.

The moment she locked gazes with him she shot up from her seat, and slammed her palms down on the wooden tabletop. Her eyes burned, and her mouth fell wide, aghast.

Oh no. He _was_ late.

In that instant, his legs turned to jelly, but he willed them into solidity again and dragged his feet, sheepishly, to the table. Her expression did not change.

She took a sharp breath, and Barry cringed.

"Lup, I—"

" _Barold J. Bluejeans, were you run over by a circus on the way here?_ "

"...Uh, I… What?"

She stared him down, deadly serious. His jaw hung dumbly.

"Sit down," she hissed. He did.

She scooted her chair closer and hunched as if to shield him from prying eyes.

"What is all _this?_ " She waved a hand wildly in front of him. "Did you even look at yourself before you left the flat? What were you trying to do?"

"I… I'm sorry, Lup," he mumbled. "Wait, what do you mean?"

She buried her face in her palms and ran them down, dragging her cheeks comically, then shoved a hand inside her robe. "Look," she said, thrusting a folding compact at him.

His pulse raced. He flipped open the coral-colored case to the polished mirror within, and raised it.

His heart jumped straight to his throat.

To compare him to a clown would have been an honest insult to the profession—he looked like an abstract painting. There was possibly an obscure order to the large, dark swoops that ran from the corners of his eyes to near to his ears like a raven in flight, or the striking circles of crimson that seemed to take up half his jaw, but beyond that? Chaos. It was as if he had picked a fight with an entire salon—and lost.

He was mortified.

He closed the compact, hands weak. A lonesome _thunk_ sounded as he pressed it down in the table. He stared at his shoes. He felt her eyes burning through the top of his skull.

"Lup, I don't know what… No, never mind, I'm sorry I dragged you out here. I'll just…"

A snort, briefly followed by a peel of laughter that drew the eyes of the whole room stopped him, halfway from leaving the table. Lup was suddenly breathless, tears at the corners of her scrunched eyes. Her long fingers grasped his arm.

"S-Sit back down," she managed through hiccups, pounding the table with her first until they subsided. He did.

Finally, when she had composed herself enough to speak, she turned her eyes, sparkling with mirth, to the bewildered human man.

"Phew… Let me guess… _Taako_?"

"I…" His brows knitted. "I mean, no, but… Yeah, actually. How did you know?"

"Two things," she said as she dried her tears, "One: That is _genius_. Two: I can't believe you actually fell for it. After this many years, you still _trust_ my brother?"

Somewhere, far away, he could imagine an elf cackling.

Barry rubbed his temples, lips pulled wryly, croaking a dry laugh. "Yeah, I should've known better, shouldn't I?" He buried his forehead down into folded arms. "I really wanted to impress you. Gods… I even forgot the bouquet I got you."

"Where did you find flowers in a place like this?"

"Cliffside, between some of the rocks. It wasn't easy." He chuckled. "I goofed this whole thing up, didn't I?"

"Chin up, there, Barry."

He straightened up. Her voice had fallen soft. Darkened lids hung heavily over alert, gentle eyes, and his pulse quickened. Lup clasped his hand to hers.

"I think it's charming. Not your face, that shit is a _hot mess_ , but… I like _you_ , Barry. A lot of people…"

Her expression drifted downward. She withdrew her hands, and folded them.

"I'm… very accustomed to being wanted. I mean look at me, who _wouldn't_ want this? And I've made some poor decisions in the past. But..."

The room felt chilled, but that was not why Barry shuddered. Her tone was frightening. He lifted his fingers to reach her, but stopped just out of reach, frozen on the table, uncertain whether a touch was what she wanted. He waited. She started again.

"I've known you long enough, Barry Bluejeans, to know that you _mean_ it. You've seen _every side_ of me, not just my face or, whatever else, and somehow… You still want me. I'm not sure if you know how much that means."

"Lup," he breathed.

With a stretch, he bridged the gap, careful, to put his hand atop hers, but stopped once more. Instead, he turned it over, palm unfurled. Through seconds that seemed to tick like hours, he watched her hand rise from the table and drift back down like a falling dew, on top of his. Her fingers curled at rest.

Barry smiled.

"I… What I know is… Whatever you might want to give me, Lup, that's enough for me. Seeing you happy? That's all I could ever need. I…" He grasped her fingers back. "I love you."

"Pssh," she sniffed, turning before he could make out the new tears forming in her eyes, though he could see her grinning. "You big sap… Now, let's order something before they kick us out of here, huh?"

The two of them chatted the rest of the evening away over a strong, mint-laced ale and plates of fried desert insectoids, about anything mindless, anything that was not their recurrent, harrowing burden, nor all the otherworldly horrors that lie in tow. When eventually Lup grew weary of gazing at Taako's handiwork, she begged Barry to let her prestidigitate it away. He quickly consented, but insisted she replace it with something more flattering in return. With a set of brushes conjured from nowhere, she was happy to oblige.

  
  


By the time the bill was squared, at least an hour or two had passed, and now the massive orange sun was out of sight. Blackness roiled in the canyons below like a sea, and brought to mind things that neither of them wanted to think about. Instinctively, Barry glanced upward, searching for bright, white eyes.

They never appeared.

The two strolled, side by side, down the path, the wind more forgiving now as the temperature dropped, until they found an outcropping they could rest upon. Lup nestled at his side, her head against his shoulder. They sat and watched the shadows.

"You know, Barry, I've been thinking about us," she said, the thrum of her whisper coursing hot through his body.

"Really?! I mean, uh, what about us, then?"

"I don't think I can love you, Barry."

Dead silence.

Instantly, he replayed the sentence in his head to be sure that he had heard it correctly, so casually had it spilled from her lips. But, the words remained the same.

The whole of his being dripped out through his toes.

She snuggled closer, but he was paralyzed. If she noticed, she didn't care, or was too polite to say. After far too long, she spoke again.

"At least, not in the way you want me to."

"I don't understand." His voice lacked life.

"Oh, no, Barry." She sat up, eyes wide and worried. "What I'm trying to say is, well, I'm _old_. I don't like to admit that, but I am. Much older than you, anyway." Her voice turned flat as well. "And even if we try to ignore the facts… I'll still be here, long after you're gone."

Barry lacked the words to respond. Lup sighed.

"What you want… is a _forever_ love, a love for a lifetime. And forever for you… that's like nothing for me. I will never, ever forget you, that I swear, but I can't know that I would continue to love you the same after, after you _aren't_. Do you get what I'm trying to say?"

Barry swallowed. He did, far more concisely than he would have desired, than he ever wished to consider. He nodded, once. Lup let her weight shift, and leaned back against him.

"I won't make promises that I can't keep. I can't give you a love for a lifetime."

Her lips turned to meet his neck. He could smell her soft perfume, like dried flowers and woodland spice. Her breath danced over his skin.

"But, I can give you a love for the _now_."

She grasped his chin, and pulled his lips down to meet hers, sharing in a long, tender exchange.

"I don't know how long _this_ —" she flung her hands out "—is going to last, and I'm certain that we're going to find a way out of this cycle, someday. I really could use that fifteen dollars, after all."

Barry forced a laugh.

"But," she continued, "for as long as we have together, in this whack existence or any other, as long as you keep that kindness... I'm happy to have you at my side."

She kissed him again.

"For as long I can, I love you."

Any dread left in him melted away as she curled back against him, strong and delicate, wise and warm, the most beautiful and most brilliant thing he had ever known. And he smiled.

"Well," said Barry, his whole heart aglow, "I think I can live with that."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and basked in the silence.

  
  


Their acquired dwelling was anything but silent when they returned, as their cleric had already taken to bed, and his snoring was enough to turn the undead. Still, it was peaceful. Lup went in ahead while Barry observed the skies one last time, paranoid in a deserved way, yet grateful to see that his fears would not be fed tonight. Satisfied, her ducked in behind her.

She had already retreated to her room, so the common area was vacant, and dark. Barry reached for a torch.

"Looks like _someone_ enjoyed their evening."

He near jumped out of his skin. A torch flickered on spontaneously, showing the gloating face of an elven conjurer.

"Geez, Taako, don't do that," Barry huffed.

"What'd I tell you, Barry-boy? Perfect, right?"

The human grumbled, "I don't appreciate you settin' me up like that, Taako. I thought we were friends."

Taako only smiled. "She loved it though, didn't she?"

"I would actually say she hated it."

"Tomato, tomato. Point is, Barry, the two of you had a good time. Come on, don't tell me you didn't, I can see it all over your face. Which, by the way, I think _I_ should be insulted by, considering you undid all my craftsmanship."

Barry glared.

"Yeah," he acquiesced, clapping the wizard on the shoulder, "I guess we did... Just give a guy some warning next time, would you?"

"Absolutely, Barry, cross my heart."

"And uncross your fingers?"

The elf chortled. "You caught me."

Barry collected the lit torch and headed toward his room.

"...Thanks, Taako, for everything. And good night."

"Anytime, my dude. Anytime."


End file.
